I am grateful for snow, it occupies a whole corner of my brain: memories, preparation and activities. If anyone had ever told me I’d be living in the South jonesing for a once a year snow storm, I would have laughed in their face at the ridiculous prediction. But, here I am. This morning I saw the dogs, my four Siberian Huskies on the deck noses in the air. Smelling snow was something I was very good at in my youth. I heard it said so many times growing up in New Hampshire that I spent a lot of time focusing on the activity. If your brain is an organic computer, it follows that it needs data to process.
I took time everyday while growing up to smell the air for weather. It was normal for my grandfather. He would point at the leaves and say: “The leaves are showing their backs, bring in the laundry.” Later, in college I realized there was a shift in the air currents before a rain storm that flipped the leaves so you could see the lighter undersides. Did leaves evolve to respond in such a way so they were able to direct moisture to their roots?
I grabbed a jacket, slipped on my new polka dot boots (see yesterday’s post) and went out on the deck. I squatted down with the dogs and faced the same direction, lifted my nose and inhaled. Yup! Snow was on the air! There was no doubt in my mind. It was a concrete certainty. I said, “Cool!” and the dogs responded with tails wagging. Then, I settled into a meditation, being in the moment, I analyzed what it was that I was responding. A definite frigid humidity was in the gentle breeze, a crisp air kiss on my face, a lowering of atmospheric pressure and a calm in the woods. No bird song but a frantic gorging of food at the feeders. No squirrels at all. I saw a squirrel’s nest on a fallen tree a few years ago. It was fully lined with husky fur, so I can appreciate them snuggling in for a snowy nap!
I smell snow. So it’s prep work, I’ve piled dry firewood in the screen room, will be making healthy, high protein meals that can be eaten cold. Unlike the snow days of my youth, a Southern storm means lots of ice in the perimeter of the snow area, which means downed power lines and outages. Phones are charges and candles ready. Still, my excitement is near crazed. I love snow. I love rolling in it, I love lying on my back and experiencing the brief shock as a flake lands on my face or eye and immediately melts. My first published poem referred to a sky that was heavy and pregnant with snow. That line meant a lot to me, like every pregnancy there is hope and fear and a giddy embrace of the future.
Every day is a blessing and today I and mine shall receive a rare, sublime snow blessing.